


Sinners Like Me

by Jac_Danvers



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: AU Post-Season 2 Finale, F/M, Major Character Deaths Eventually, Tags Will Probably Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-02-28 01:45:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2714360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jac_Danvers/pseuds/Jac_Danvers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jessie Tranell was about to take the medical world by storm, when the dead decided to storm the earth instead. When her group stumbles upon the Greene family farm as they escaped the herd, Jessie inadvertently saves a life, and becomes stranded with a man slowly losing his sanity. Shane Walsh had hoped everything would end that night. Somewhere along the way he lost the man he'd been, and became his own worst nightmare. Could helping Jessie reunite with her group bring him new purpose? Or is he too far gone to save himself and his newly found comrade in arms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Alas, The Walking Dead is not mine. New characters are my own creation. Quote at the beginning of the chapter is from Lorde's "Buzzcut Season" which I listened to approximately 62 times on repeat writing this chapter. The story title is based on the Eric Church song of the same name.
> 
> Authors Note: I don't normally put author's notes at the beginning of a chapter, but I wanted to orient you guys a bit. This story picks up during the season finale of season 2 (yep... we're back to the farm). Everything after is considered AU. I got this idea based on a marathon rewatch before season 5 and number of message board discussions wondering what would have happened if Shane fell in line, or if he had survived past the night on the farm. Was there any redemption left for Shane? So I figured I'd take my chances and run with that idea. This story is Shane/OC and possibly Daryl/OC later. The characters we know and love will start showing up come the first actual chapter. But for now, here's the prologue for you!

                                                                                 [](http://tinypic.com?ref=igmdt2) 

 

**Prologue**

_And I'll never go home again_

_(Place the call, feel it start)_

_Favorite friend_

_I live in a hologram with you_

 

* * *

"Dead to the world I see?"

Jessica Tranell shot up with a start, the nap she'd chosen to take on her keyboard interrupted. The dim fluorescent lights flickered back on- she'd been out long enough that the motion-sensitive lights thought the room was empty. Glancing at her computer screen, she discovered a long string of semicolons added to the end of the text-box on her PowerPoint slide.

"Mother fucker," she muttered, blinking hard. She grabbed the coffee that had been piping hot five minutes ago and gulped down the ice cold liquid, face contorting at the taste. Looking at the clock in the corner of her computer, she drank some more. She needed the energy, and there was no time to grab a fresh cup, finish her rounds, print her poster, and catch her flight to Atlanta. Rubbing her eyes, she felt the imprint of the keyboard on her face.

"And they let you work with children." A smile passed over the doctor's face he stepped into the room. "Whatever will become of the youth of our nation?"

A steaming paper cup was plopped down in front of her, along with a chocolate chip scone. Jessie looked up at her mentor with a grin. "I will totally forgive you for that last comment if this is a dirty chai."

"So dirty an obsessive compulsive cleaner would cry." Dr. Morris Schwartz replied, settling in a rolling chair and propping his feet on the desk next to her laptop.

"And they let you work with children?"" Jessie shot back. Turnabout was always fair play. She took a sip. "Oh this is to die for."

Morris laughed, removing his surgical cap to reveal graying red hair and a wrinkled forehead. "You work too hard, kiddo. How's the poster going?" He took a sip of his own coffee- black, one Splenda, and two shakes of cinnamon- and leaned over the computer. "Layout looks great. And the data looks fantastic, as always. You're missing the statistical analysis from the mouse studies though." He pointed at the red and black bar graph on the screen with a bandaged finger.

"Crap. Must have grabbed it from my first seminar. It's the preliminary data."

"Stop worrying, Jessie. The researchers at AACR are going to love you and loathe you. You and Cece are working miracles. Completely changing paradigms. There's going to be resistance, but the data is irrefutable. They're going to be climbing over each other to offer you a tenure track position."

For a moment, Jessie let a smile emerge. This was why she adored Morris. Her MD/PhD advisor back at the University of Iowa had been a tyrant, had nearly squelched her love of research. In her four years as a student, her boss had shot down every original idea she had, telling her it was completely unfeasible, and that if she ever wanted to be a successful tenure track professor, she was going to have to work a hell of a lot harder than the 70 hours she already put in a week. Seemingly every day was the same- she wasn't working hard enough, wasn't good enough- she'd nearly broken. As she'd headed out the door to her residency at the University of Virginia, she was done with research. She would hone her skills as a pediatric oncologist and never step foot into a lab again, unless it was to get blood test results from the technicians.

At least, that was the plan, until Morris, the head of the pediatric oncology department, had cornered her at lunch two days into her residency. He was a practicing doctor with a lab, and had seen her previous work. After an intense question answer session- him the questions, her the answers- he insisted she do a trial fellowship in his lab. No commitments, no limitations, no cost. He had funding from the National Cancer Institute to use before his grant ran out, and wanted to use it to develop the next generation of cancer therapeutics.

It had been four years now, and everything had finally come together. Everything she'd ever hoped to accomplish when she started out as a biochemistry major at 18, she had finally achieved, thanks to Morris's belief in her.

"I just wish we knew if the paper was accepted or not before we present," she replied with a sigh. She took another sip of the chai latte and popped a piece of scone in her mouth, savoring the sweet taste of chocolate. "I feel like there would be fewer questions if we could show this passed through peer review."

They'd aimed high with the paper, sending it to Cell. It was one of the most competitive, highest impact scientific journals in the world. She'd been thrilled just to make it past the initial review without an outright rejection. She and Cece, the graduate student Morris had allowed her to hire, had submitted the required revisions almost a month ago, with no response.

Morris smirked, leaning over to steal a piece of scone. "Well I wasn't going to say anything, but…"

"You heard? They e-mailed?"

She wasn't even going to try and hide her excitement or her nerves.

"Not quite," he said with a chuckle. Reaching for the shelf above her desk, he pulled down a thin periodical.

"Congratulations Dr. Tranell. You and Miss Jacondin are the cover story."

She stared at the cover of the next month's edition of Cell in awe. The photograph- a bioluminescence image of brain tumors in mice- was covered in bylines describing the most recent and novel research. The largest one, in bold face white font, read "Back to the Future: Retooling Conventional Chemotherapeutics to Cure Childhood Neuroblastoma."

Looking from Morris, to the journal, and back again, she felt her hands shaking. "That's our paper."

"That is your paper." He took the journal and opened to a page he'd marked with a post-it note. "And this is a full profile on you and Cecily." He pointed to a page long article on her and her grad student.

"You told me you took this picture for the department newsletter!" she said with a squeak, pointing to the photograph at the bottom of the page. She and Cece stood with a family of four outside the campus rotunda. Alexander Morgan, an adorable six year old who almost didn't see seven, sat on Morris's shoulders beaming. His mother stood arm-in-arm with Cece, while his father and older brother struck a pose. Jessie stood apart from the rest- nothing new. With pediatric oncology, she'd learned early on to keep a healthy distance.

The bad days didn't hurt quite so much that way.

"I lied." Morris grinned. "One of my old student's is an editor for Cell. Got an advanced copy for you."

"Thank you," she said. "This never would have happened if you hadn't cornered me by the cheap sushi my first week here." She grabbed his hand and gave it a meaningful squeeze.

He flinched away with an apologetic smile. "You're welcome. And watch the hand, kid!"

She pulled her hand away quickly, looking down at the bandage. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Eloise Morgan happened."

Jessie laughed. Eloise, who was named after her gram-gram, thank you very much, was a precocious five year old with Wilms tumors and a penchant for biting everything- animate and inanimate. "What happened?"

"We almost lost her today, actually," Morris said soberly, running the bandaged hand through his hair. "Not even the cancer. She came in with a fever and signs of sepsis. Looks like she got bit by a dog or something earlier this week and didn't tell her parents. Hell of an infection. They called me in since they were afraid the antibiotics might affect her chemo. She coded on the table, but they brought her back. And of course, what is the first thing she does? Takes a chunk out of my finger."

"Poor thing," Jessie replied. "Though seriously, she does love snapping at you Morris. Must be your personality."

"Ha. All the ladies love my charm. Particularly my wife, who will be throwing a party for you once you get back from Atlanta. Just let me know what day you get back from the conference, and we'll work from there. She's going to invite her nephew, so she can play yenta."

"Ooh lucky me. We'll pawn him off on Cece, right?" She turned back to her computer, flicking through files to find the updated graph that Morris pointed out earlier.

Morris shook his head. "She'll wear you down someday, Jessie."

"Say things like that and I may never come back from Atlanta."

With a chuckle, Morris patted her on the back. "Now I'm going to go finish my rounds and get out of your hair. Congratulations again kiddo. Give 'em hell."

"I will. I promise."

With the journal tucked soundly in her backpack, she knew she had the confidence to take Atlanta by storm.

They wouldn't even know what hit them.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've taken some creative liberties with the end of the episode "Better Angels." Jon Bernthal, I believe at one of the cons, had mentioned his theories on the Shane/Rick showdown, and I've combined the cannon events from the show with his own theories here. Song lyrics are from "The Devil is All Around" by Shovels and Ropes.

**Chapter 1**

_When the devil is all around_

_And got you crawling on the ground_

_You will know how far you'll go_

_To make your peace with God_

* * *

 

"Help! Oh God, hel—" The cry for aid was cut off quickly and turned into a garbled wail, telling Jessie everything she needed to know. Her stomach clenched and her breath caught momentarily- she recognized the voice, had become friends with Genevieve, the retired teacher who had grabbed her corgi, Sir Wiggles, and her ex-husband's shotgun before she sped out of her suburban neighborhood at the dawn of the apocalypse.

_Don't think about it. Keep running._

The dead had abandoned Atlanta.

That was the only way she could explain the size of the herd that was bearing down on them. It was huge- so large they hadn't found a way to outrun it or circle back behind it. Food… humans… must have been in such short supply that they had to leave the city. Like lemmings to the sea, they followed each other, chasing the sweet scent of fresh meat. And they found that sustenance in a camp just off the highway.

Three gunshots in the distance and another scream. A man. Was that Craig? Or Andy?

They should have moved out like Javon had suggested earlier in the day. But no, she insisted they could make one more run into town. They were low on medical supplies, and she was the only doctor in the group.

"We'll regret it this winter if we don't stock up now. Flu and cold medicine are going to be in short supply, we'll want to grab it before some other group does. Antibiotics and pain meds would make all the difference too. Trust me."

Famous. Last. Words.

_You can't help them, Jessie. You can't._

"Cece," she heard Logan hiss anxiously to her right. "You gotta keep up Ce."

Her grad student- former grad student, now- lagged slightly behind them. Panting. Gasping for breath. Logan was the only one really prepared for this world.

They'd been on the run for almost three months now. They'd tried keeping track of the days at first, when it had just been the three of them. Now dates and times were related by which group they had been with, and who was still alive.

Tonight they'd lost group number four- the only decent people they'd found since shit hit the fan in the convention hall of the Atlanta Marriot.

A tree rustled just behind Logan, and the smell of decay momentarily overwhelmed Jessie. "Behind you!" she gasped, preparing to swing the metal baseball bat she'd acquired at an abandoned REI off of the expressway. Logan was faster, drawing his pride and joy out of its holster. The half-assed scythe he'd built from an ice skate blade and shortened hockey stick that didn't look at all reliable. But with one swift swing, he took the top half of the middle aged freak's head, spattering brains and rotten flesh onto the bushes behind it.

"You alright?" Cece asked resting a hand on his shoulder as she caught up with them. Her backpack was slipping off her shoulders, weighed down with the last few cans of peas and artichoke hearts they'd found hidden under the shelves of an old Walgreens.

"Fine" Logan said, switching the scythe to his other hand and checking their perimeter. He may have never seen battle, but Jessie was certain that the kid would have been a successful officer if he'd ever had the chance to make it out of ROTC. "We're clear. Two minutes. What's the plan, Doc?"

"We keep heading that way," Jessie stated, eyes constantly scanning their surroundings. She didn't know why Logan and Cece named her de facto leader- probably age, since she had at least five years on Cece, and even more on Logan- but she'd pushed her hesitance aside and took control weeks ago. "The trees are thinning out, I think we may be nearing a field or a road. If it's a road, we might be able to find a car."

"And if it's a field?" Logan asked.

With a sigh, Jessie felt her head drop, exhaustion finally hitting her. She stared at the first dead leaves of fall littering the ground, just barely visible in the dark. There was no easy way to phrase their situation. "At least we'll be able to see the freaks coming."

Her friends were silent, and when she looked back up, she saw the resignation on both their faces. There was no way they could keep running all night- they'd been on the move since dawn, and been running from the herd for at least an hour or two. Physically, they were done. And here at the edge of the woods, the trees were young and not strong enough to climb and hide. If they'd stopped farther back, they could have pulled it off, but backtracking would only lead them into the mouths of the rampaging freaks.

If there was no car, they were fucked.

With a deep breathe, Logan held out his hand to Cece. "Gimme your bag. You'll move faster."

"Lo—"

"Don't argue it Ce. This isn't even close to the weight they made us run around campus with during PT." A hint of a smile passed over his face at the memory. Pulling the straps off her shoulder, she handed the bag to Logan. Grabbing her own bag, Jessie undid the zipper and handed Cece an extra baseball cap out.

"You lost yours while we were running. Get your hair up so the freaks can't pull you back." It came out more bossy than she intended, but at this point, if she could get these two kids- and they were really just kids- through the night, she'd rather be a bitch now and apologize later. As Cece piled her hair on top of her head, Jessie adjusted her Minnesota Wild cap, one of the few items she had left from her old life, over her own braid.

"Ready Doc?" Logan asked. She nodded. Cece twirled her crowbar between her fingers. Somewhere in the distance, a lonely voice screamed in agony. Jessie didn't know if it was their old group or just an unlucky stranger, and she didn't care to think about it. With once last glance at the remnants of her crew, she ran for the clearing without comment.

OOO

_The hell are you doing?_

_What I should've done the minute he walked off that truck into the quarry._

_Do you hear yourself right now? This is Rick. Your best friend. Your partner in crime. Your-_

_Competition. He's too weak. He'll get my family killed. I was built for this world. Not Dale. Not Hershel. Not Otis. And sure as hell not Rick. Fuckin' bleedin' heart'll get every last one of us devoured._

"You said he knocked you out?"

Rick's voice pulled Shane from his reverie. He ran a hand over his head, peach fuzz tickling his palm. It had been a nervous tick, ever since he was kid. His poker face had always been good, but he had his tell. God damn Otis, putting up a fight and yanking out a chunk.

"The fucker got the jump on me," Shane mumbled. "Near bashed my head in."

Rick stood still momentarily, staring at him with a thousand yard gaze. For a few seconds, Shane wondered if his rival had put the pieces together. Instead, he felt Rick's hand clasp his back. "We'll take care of 'im. Get your gun back too."

Shane laughed bitterly. "My favorite one." He thought of it tucked safely between the folded tarps that served as makeshift tents, stored in the back of his Hyundai. Didn't matter. He had the pistols he needed.

A chill had overtaken the night- fall was approaching fast- but the grass remained slick from the humidity of the day. The moisture was settling into a thick fog over the Georgia night. Shane stalked closer and closer to the last fence before the forest, not even pretending to be hunting for Randall. Why keep up the farce? It would all be over soon enough.

One pistol loaded. One pistol empty. Life hadn't been fair since the world ended, the dice loaded against them. Why start following the rules now?

_BECAUSE HE'S YOUR BEST FRIEND!_

_He stole Lori from me! Is tryin' to claim my baby._

_You abandoned him in the hospital! You shoulda hauled his ass out of there over your shoulder._

_And done what? Carried his corpse home. He was as good as dead. Walker bait._

Shane shook his head, once again reaching for his hair. He was his losing his goddamned mind. Ever since she'd taken Rick back, taken Carl away, declared he'd never see his baby. They were  _his_ , God damnit, his family. That bitch had no right to take them away. Once Rick was dead and out of the way, Lori would come to her senses, would understand that he, and not Rick, was made for this world.

_Yeah, yeah. If you said it one time, you've said it again. Was it worth the price of your soul?_

_Shut up._

_It's not too late-_

_Shut up!_

_There's another way-_

"SHUT UP!"

His voice echoed over the field, into the forest. With an awareness of his surrounding he hadn't felt since he dragged Randall from the barn, he gazed across the horizon, trying to see through the pea soup fog. No walkers. How long had he been talking to himself? Slowly, he turned to Rick. The man's face seemed calm, though a bit bemused.

Not that long. He still didn't know.

"You sure you're alright?" Rick asked hesitantly.

"Yeah… yeah. I'm fine. Head is still woozy," he quickly excused himself. He couldn't show any weakness. Rick could not get the advantage.

Rick had to die.

Or did he?

The empty pistol weighed heavy. Rick was not leaving the forest alive tonight. There was no doubt of that. But what kind of man was he if he took out an unarmed man?

What kind of man killed another and left them for walker bait?

What kind of man had he become?

_The fuck you saying, boy? Get it together. Kill him and let it be done._

"Let's keep moving," Shane encouraged, picking up the pace.

_Yes. Kill Rick. It's your only option._

OOO

"To your left, Ce!" Logan shouted. She stopped short, nearly tripping over her own feet. The freak was stumbling towards her, chest sunken in, intestines spilling out. The woman had maybe been a few years older than her. Stomach churning, Cece swung her crowbar hard into the woman's head. She knew she didn't have much power- it was no secret that she was, by far, the most useless member of their group - and the swing only caused the freak to stumble a few steps backward. For a moment, she considered calling for help, but Logan and Jessie were dealing with three others that had somehow caught their scent.

Taking a deep breath, she charged the freak, holding her crowbar ahead of her. Giving it a shove, it pierced the freak's skull. As the woman fell, Cece yanked her crowbar out.

The freaks were gaining on them.

"You alright Ce?" Jessie asked, wiping the bloody baseball bat on the wet grass. She nodded briefly, and they kept running.

Everything hurt. She wasn't going to lie to herself and say that this nomadic life was a walk in the park. Cecily Kim had been firmly tied to her lab bench the past three years. And unlike Jessie, who at least managed to sneak in a jog on the treadmill or a spot on a co-ed softball team every so often, working out had long taken a spot behind studying, researching, eating, and sleeping. She wanted to kick herself for all the times she'd joked about having good genes. Good genes kept you skinny, but they didn't mean you could run.

And yet she did. Because, frankly, becoming a meal was a terrifying thought. So she pulled down her baseball cap, laced up her sneakers, and ran like all hell, because although she might be useless, she didn't want to die.

The break in the forest came suddenly. Though they knew that the edge of the thick woods was near, it was jarring to step into an open field. The thick, pea soup-like fog sent an additional shiver up her spine, hiding what was awaiting them.

"Keep moving! I think I see something ahead." Logan signaled the direction he planned on moving, and the two women followed. Something was better than nothing at this point. They moved slower now, back-to-back, prepared to strike at anything that might emerge. Logan had trained them well the past few weeks, teaching them basic protective maneuvers. The three of them had been together so long, they worked well as a unit.

As they moved closer, it became more apparent what they were seeing. A fence, made of well-weathered pressure-treated lumber. And beyond the fence, a farmhouse.

The lights were on.

"Are you shitting me?" she whispered.

For a moment, they stood in awe. The last few months, light came from the sun. From flashlights, when the batteries had lasted. Candles, until they'd burned out. The campfire. But this farmhouse, somehow, someway, still had electricity.

"Do you think…" Cece started saying, with baited breathe.

"Could just be that they had a generator and the lights were on a timer," Jessie said, ever the realist. For a moment her heart sank.

"But would a generator have lasted this long?" Logan offered. Jessie shrugged her shoulders.

"Does it matter?" Cece interrupted. "A house means a driveway, and a driveway means a road. There's gotta be a car nearby!" The excitement grew in her voice. They weren't going to die. Not here. Not tonight.

"Let's move then!" Logan said, his voice filled with the same hope that Cece felt.

"Wait!" Jessie gasped. "Look in the window. Second story, on the left. Is that a person?"

Cece squinted, trying her best to see. A shadow wandered through the room slowly. Her gut instinct told her it was a walker, trapped in the upper floors of the house. But the shadow leaned over briefly, and stood up with something in its arms. "They're alive!"

"We have to warn them. They don't know what's coming this way," Logan insisted.

For a moment, Cecily was going to agree. But her mind drifted back to the third group they'd traveled with. How they'd changed from their initial meeting in the first days of the apocalypse. The price they'd demanded.

The guilt she carried that Jessie had taken the burden upon herself.

"What if they're like Macon?" Cece said hesitantly, eyes looking anywhere but Jessie. Not far behind them, a pack of four freaks emerge from the woods. "The house could be a death trap."

"The whole fucking world is a death trap Cecily!" Logan snapped. Instantly, his face flushed. "Sorry… I'm sorry. It's not helping."

Jessie held her hands up between them. "It's a risk, but we're dead if we don't find a car and find one fast. I'd rather deal with people who have actual car keys than pray we find a car with keys in it. If we're lucky, they'll be thankful we saved their asses and give us a ride out of dodge. If not… whatever they want, I'll handle it."

"Jess…" Cece whispered.

The group was silent for a moment, before Logan split off to take care of a stray freak. They peppered the edge of the woods now, and would soon overrun the entire farm. Once Logan rejoined them, they ran for the fence, which looked like it had recently been reinforced. It didn't matter now- it would never withstand the herd. With each step, the farm grew closer, and with it, the potential of a temporary escape from the dangers behind them.

Logan held up a hand, signaling them to stop. "Do you hear shouting?" he asked.

Cece hesitated a moment, listening closely. "Yeah… yeah I do. Do you see them? Is that a kid over there?"

Three figures stood shadowed on a hill near the fence, completely unaware of the approaching danger. Two were standing next to each other, arguing, drawing the attention of the freaks emerging from the woods. They were tall, likely grown men. The third stood farther away. A kid.

"Goddamn it." Jessie hissed. "Go. Go to the house and warn them. If I'm not there in ten, you leave without me. Got it?"

"You can't—"

"Someone had to warn those idiots. I  _will_ find you guys. Alright? Go!"

And although she wanted to argue, she let Jess sprint away towards the men in the field.

OOO

_It's not the only way._

_It is._

_You gonna be able to live with yourself after you pull that trigger?_

_Hell yes._

_Are you so sure about that?_

Shane glanced behind them at the farmhouse. The lights glowed bright through the fog, a beacon in the darkness reminding him of what he had. Of who he had to protect. The only people that mattered in this shitty world.

_Are. You. Sure._

His hand moved to the gun. It was time. They were far enough from the house that no one would see what really happened. He'd tell them it was a walker, a sneak attack. Lori would forget Rick. She'd forgotten him once, it wouldn't be hard. Kill Rick, drag his body into the woods. The walkers would eventually get to his corpse- there were enough still milling around that they'd cover his tracks. Carl would come around to calling him daddy eventually. He wouldn't force it on him, he deserved time to mourn…

_What am I doing?_

Rick stared at him as he stopped suddenly. "You see somethin'?"

He felt overwhelmed with the sudden clarity.

What kind of man had he become?

Was it only two months since the real world? Since he visited his best friend's hospital bed weekly, giving him updates on his wife and son? Since he defended the weak from the criminals of the world?

He'd turned into everything he once fought against.

_There's another way. Turn Rick into the man he needs to be._

_What?_

_Give Rick the gun with the bullets._

He would die here tonight. He would force Rick to be the man he needed to be.

It wasn't fair to Rick, but what was fair in this world anymore? Rick needed the push and Shane was the only one who could give it. He would die so that Rick and Carl, Lori and his baby, could live. So that Rick could be the man they needed in this world.

He might love her, but Rick had always loved her more.

"So this is where you're gonna do it?" Rick drawled behind him.

He knew.

"As good a place as any," he replied with a shrug.

"At least call it what it is. Murder." It sounded like Rick's heart was breaking, and Shane knew it was. Betrayed by his best friend. The man who was supposed to have his back.

"Can't help it I'm a better man than you, Rick. You can't protect them.  _I_ can. I'm the better man Rick."

"And what are you gonna tell 'em. When you come back without me and without Randall."

He had to play it up. Let Rick think that the plan was to kill him, wound him so deeply he had no other option but to kill Shane.  _You have to die. It's the only way they'll live._

"They forgot about you once. They'll forget you again. Ain't gonna surprise no one if you get bit. It happens these days. Your boy's weak Rick. You're makin' him that way. Your woman's broken." Rage dripped from his voice, all the hurt and pain he'd felt since Rick returned and his world fell apart a second time. "I fucked your woman. And I ain't gonna let you raise my child, Rick."

"So you're gonna kill an unarmed man?"

He held out the loaded pistol. "Take it."

"I ain't doin' thi—"

"TAKE IT!" Shane shouted, shoving the gun into his hands. He stepped back. "Be a man and defend yourself Rick."

"I'm not doing this!" Rick growled. "There's still time, we can turn around and go back to the farm. No one needs to know about this.

"This. Ends. Tonight."

Rick sighed, dropping the gun to the ground. "Then you're gonna have to kill an unarmed man, Shane."

They stared at each other, apparently having reached a stalemate.  _Fight for them Rick. God damnit fight. I can't live like this anymore._

 _I don't_ want  _to live like this anymore._

Rick stepped forward, reaching for his gun. "We'll go home to Carl and Lori, man. We'll go home to them."

"Hey!"

Somewhere in the distance a voice emerged. If he'd been paying more attention, he would have noticed it was coming from nearer the fences, rather than the direction of the house.  _Let it end. This needs to end._

"HEY! You need to run!"

Rick took his hand, grasping the gun and pushing it down. "This is on you, Shane." A flash of steel glistened in the moonlight. A bullet would have been quicker, but he'd given up that choice when he'd decided to murder his best friend. "This ain't on me. It's on you."

Rick lunged, pulling him towards the blade. He felt the tip just brush his abs, piercing the skin and-

"What are you doing!"

The woman's voice carried through the fog, frantic and terrified. Rick pulled away, Shane stepping back simultaneously. Baseball bat brandished high, she backed away from them slowly. "You're crazy… you're absolutely crazy."

Shane grabbed the empty gun off the ground, and Rick stepped forward, knife held aloft. Revenge was forgotten, as they stared at the new threat. "How'd you find us?" Rick asked, menace in his voice. "Follow your boys here?" Shane pointed the gun at the woman's head, supporting Rick's threatening tone. Couldn't hurt her, but at least he could scare her into submission.

Funny how quickly they'd gone from thoughts of murder to thoughts of defense. The safety of Lori and Carl would always be both their priority.

"How'd I…" she stuttered, breathing heavily. "Boys…" She shook her head, seemingly dazed. Glancing over her shoulder, she started backing away, hands raised.

"You better speak, girl." Shane threatened.

"Herd," she whispered. "The dead abandoned Atlanta. There's a herd."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never written a complete psychotic break like Shane's before. I hope there's some method to the madness and you were able to follow what happened? Jon Bernthal had tossed around this idea that Shane never loaded the gun that night- that he brought Rick to the field because he wanted to die and force Rick to be the man he needed to be. I hope his logic from overtly wanting to murder Rick to questioning that decision to wanting to die himself to fighting a common enemy flowed logically in some sort of way? Shane is tough as balls to write, you guys, but I think no matter what, he would always fight the greatest threat to Lori and Carl's safety- and that being Jessie, the stranger. I also hope you enjoyed seeing more of Jessie and Cecily. I'm hoping to delve a bit more into Logan in the next chapter.
> 
> Speaking of next chapter... I'd originally meant to get through the fall of the farm in this chapter. And then this first half turned into a total beast. So next chapter we'll see the fall of the farm. I don't think I mentioned in the first chapter, but I am for a new chapter ever 1.5-2 weeks or so.
> 
> I appreciate any constructive feedback or comments you guys may have, particularly on the Shane sections. Like I said, tough as balls to write. Thanks so much for reading, and having a great holiday season! -Jac


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Walking Dead still isn't mine! Lyrics are from Woodkid's Run Boy Run, which has a super great beat to listen to when you're writing a chapter about insanity.
> 
> Warning: Although we all know and love Daryl, in early seasons he was not the most tactful or politically correct. In order to keep him in character, he does use some stereotypes associated with Asian-American. I, personally, in no way support these statements, and use them only in the interest of keeping Daryl in character. I hope they do not offend anyone, and apologize if they do.

**Chapter 2**

_Tomorrow is another day_

_And you won't have to hide away_

_Run boy run_

_This world is not made for you_

The house was still as they approached, though the lights blazed bright, a welcoming warmth beckoning them inside. If he closed his eyes, Logan McCann could remember the last time he'd felt that same sense of comfort, arriving home to spend Spring Break with his family in Boston. By the time he'd pulled into the driveway, after a midterm, PT, and ten hour drive, his dad was playing poker with his buddies from the firehouse and his mom was nose deep in a book. But they'd dropped everything to welcome him home, his father shouting at his younger sister Addison to "Stop texting that dumbass and come say hello to your brother."

It was amazing what the sight of an electric light could bring back.

"Stay behind me Cece," he demanded, climbing up the stairs. Briefly he'd contemplated a quiet, studied approach, the way Colonel Blake had instructed them during the two week training course he'd taken at the Virginia Military Institute after his freshman year of college. But the time for caution had passed. He could hear the freaks approaching, knew they'd be drawn to the lights and noise of the house.

Saying a silent prayer that these people wouldn't be a repeat of Macon, his fist slammed into the door. "Hey! Anybody home!"

The house went silent. He pounded again. "Please! If you're in there, please open the door! They're coming!"

He heard whispers inside, but still no response. Cece pointed at a cracked open window, and before he could stop her, she ran over. "PLEASE! Listen to us!" He could hear Cece's desperation as she called through the crack in the window. She'd been so calm all day, but he'd know it was only a matter of time before she broke down. "There's a herd of freaks heading this way. They're gonna overrun this place."

No response. He grabbed the door handle, pulling on it- if they wouldn't come out, he would go in. Logan couldn't save their friends at camp, but he could save these people. "Even if you won't help us- we saw you had a kid with you. Out in the field. You need to think about him. You need to get-"

THWAK.

The arrow from behind grazed his ear before lodging in the door, which promptly swung open. "No Lori don't—" a woman's voice inside the house shouted.

"Carl! You saw Carl?"

"Who the hell are you?" The source of the arrow, a muscled man who appeared to have taken a mud bath three years ago and never bathed again, stalked up to them, crossbow loaded and pointed straight at his head. "Did Randall's group send you?"

"You know Randall?" Cece gasped, terror flooding her face. Logan grabbed her hand, pulling her back to his side. If these people knew the same Randall they did, they probably knew Macon. And if Macon hadn't killed them, that meant they could not be trusted.

Out of the frying pan, into the fire. He wasn't sure if he feared being overrun by freaks or falling in with Macon's group a third time more.

" _You_ knew Randall?" a cute, though scrawny, Asian guy asked from his place behind the crossbow wielding mud bath enthusiast.

"Unfortunately," Logan responded, mouth seemingly disconnected from his brain.  _Don't piss these people off. If they take you back to Macon without Jessie…_

"Did you see my boy? Carl?" the brunette woman that opened the door asked, grabbing him by the arm, gun pointed at his chest.

Logan pulled back instinctively, hand on his scythe. Instantly, four more guns were pointing at him, in the hands of the skinny Asian dude, a ragged looking old man, a burly African-American guy, and a middle aged blonde. Crossbow guy's hand moved to the trigger.

"STOP IT!" Cece cried, pushing in front of him so that all the weapons were pointing at her instead of him. Logan's heart leapt into his throat. If they were with Randall, they wouldn't hesitate to hurt her. They'd tried it before, and only Jessie had been able to stop them. " _Please_  stop!We don't care if you know Randall, just don't send us back with him! We need help."

She turned to the stupid brunette that had nearly started a shootout. "Yes, we saw a kid out in the field. With two other men. They were arguing, our friend Jessie went to warn them."

"Warn them about what?" a short haired girl a little older than Cece demanded.

"Weren't you listening?" Cece nearly shrieked. Logan grabbed her shoulder, trying to calm her down. Hysterics weren't going to get them anywhere.

"There's a herd heading this way. A thousand, maybe more, of those freaks. Jessie, Cece, and I… we're probably the only survivors from our camp. We'd been out on a run earlier today, they had overrun our people by the time we got back," Logan explained quickly. Time was running short, though they'd managed to put some distance between them and the herd, and standing around spelling out the implications to these people was not how he wanted to spend his last moments on earth. "We have no car. We've been on our feet since this morning, spent the last few hours running just to try and stay ahead of them. We're exhausted, but we're happy to help you load your cars and get the fuck out of here. All we're asking for is a lift, just to stay ahead. When the coast is clear, we'll find our own car. Hell, point the three of us in the direction of a working car right now, and we'll be out of your hair. But we didn't have to stop to warn you. I don't know how many groups you all have run into, but most people'll throw you to the wolves these days, if not worse." Logan paused, as the guns began to move away from him and Cece. "We just want to survive."

He stared at the crossbow guy. Slowly, he moved the arrow away from him. "Randall's dead." He heard Cece let out a sigh that sounded more like a sob.

"The hell you saying, man?" the African American man asked.

"I'm sayin' Shane's a lyin' son of a bitch. Glenn and I found his body. His neck was broke. Ain't no way a walker does that to a man," crossbow guy replied.

"Oh my God, he's out there with Rick and Carl," the brunette muttered, sinking to the ground.

"And Jess," Cece hissed. "We need to go help them!"

Crossbow guy shook his head. "Naw, Rick can handle 'im. You know that Lori. Carol, get 'er inside. Everybody needs to grab their things fast as possible, we clear outta here in twenty."

As he made to go inside, Logan grabbed the man's arm. He felt him flinch under his grip, and instantly let go. "Make it five," he said softly, pointing out into the distance.

They watched in horror as the fence around the farm collapsed under the weight of the herd.

OOO

_Well fuck._

Hostility wasn't exactly a new one. Jessie knew, probably better than most, that new friends were not always to be trusted, and that "generous" advice often required a greater payment than one wanted to give. But she never imagined she'd be staring down a gun and a knife thirty seconds after warning the two men of the enormous herd of freaks following behind her.

Then again, she  _had_ just interrupted a murder.

 _If they aren't going to listen, just go. It's their life or yours,_ a little voice, a greedy, selfish voice, chimed in at the back of her head.

_Do no harm, Jess. You took an oath._

_Yeah, and you broke it on day one of the apocalypse._

A glance at the fence was enough to reveal that the freaks were approaching. It would hold for now, but as soon as they piled up on, it would collapse under their weight. She was not fucking around with these two idiots and their personal vendetta.

"You ain't talkin', girl…" the man with the shaved head growled. He cocked the gun in his hand.

She looked at the other man brandishing the knife. He looked infinitely more reasonable than the gunman, which was hard to reconcile with the fact that he'd nearly gutted the other guy. "I ain't gonna hurt ya. Just tell me how ya found this place."

"Are you kidding me?" She'd never been able to take stupidity lying down. "I just told you there's a herd coming this way, and all you care about is how I found this farm? You ever run into a herd before?" The gunman kept his weapon trained on her as she walked up to the man with the knife, but for whatever reason, he didn't shoot. Grabbing his shoulder, she turned him toward the fence. She heard a gasp escape his mouth, and she saw that the number of freaks had nearly tripled since she last looked. The strain on the fence was apparent. "You see that? You have a hell of a bigger problem than three strangers running across your farmland. I can promise you, there are a thousand more behind. You two wanna kill each other? That's fine. But you've got a kid over there watching, and—"

The knife man pulled away, turning to face the boy. "Carl? What are you doing out here?"

Both men distracted by the boy, Jessie ran for it. An inkling of guilt nestled in her stomach- the kid surely didn't deserve to be abandoned with those two morons. But if this was any indication, Logan and Cece would need all the help they could get at the house.

"Shane! Don't let her—" she heard knife guy shout behind her. Jessie pushed her exhausted body as hard as she could, but her head start meant nothing. She heard footsteps pounding the ground behind her in chase, felt two arms wrap around her waist, throwing her to the ground. She went down hard on her back, her pack the only thing preventing her head from meeting the soil.

"Tryin' to run little girl?" the man called Shane asked as he held her down, his hands closing around her neck, mockery dripping from his voice. "You'll make damn good walker bait. Could save my people with you. Ain't no one gonna question a stranger's death." Jessie gasped for breath, struggling against his hands.

"We need to run," Jessie choked out, trying to push him off her. The possibility of dying, being wholly consumed, had passed her mind. But not like this. Not without a fight. Her vision began to blur, and if she couldn't loosen his hands, the freaks were the last thing she'd have to worry about. "There is time if we get to the cars, but we need to go now _."_

A loud crack rang through the air, seemingly confirming her statement. The man loosened his grip in surprise, and Jessie struggled harder to escape his grasp. Freaks poured over the cracked wooden beams, trampling each other as the fence fell away, opening the farm up to invasion. The first pack headed straight for the man and the kid. A second pack diverted toward her and Shane.

"We gotta move man!" the man called, grabbing the boy's hand as they started to back away. "Carl, grab the gun!" He did as he was told.

"It doesn't have to end like this," Jessie whispered frantically, ignoring the searing pain in her neck. "There's time to escape.  _Please._ "

The man leaned back, hand running over his hair. She could move her upper body, but his heavy weight on her legs kept her pinned to the ground. "This ain't how it was supposed to go. It was supposed to be over…"

A hiss over Shane's shoulder drew her attention, the first freak reaching them. The man wasn't moving, wasn't reacting. Summoning her strength, she pulled herself up, grabbed the gun the man had pointed at her out of his back pocket, turned off the safety, and shot.

Nothing.

"YOU HAVE NO BULLETS!" she shouted, despite knowing that it would only draw the beast faster. The man had gone to a gunfight without any bullets, left them unprotected, wouldn't move so she could fight back, and she was going to die here. In this field. Because for some God damn reason, for the first time since this whole shit show began, she'd actually decided to take the whole Hippocratic Oath thing seriously.

A shot rang out, and her face was suddenly splattered with a sticky substance. She knew what it was instinctively, but refused to acknowledge it. Compartmentalization was the only way to get through this, and lucky for her, she was an ace at that. Turning, she saw the boy holding the gun, the knife man looking at them with confusion- because Shane wasn't moving? Because the gun wasn't loaded? Because he nearly killed an unarmed man?

 _Damnit,_ she thought as it dawned on her. Shane was suicidal.

"Help!" she shouted to the man and his son, hoping they wouldn't leave her. "Please don't leave me here!" The walkers were coming in droves, forming a sea that essentially separated her and Shane from her potential savior.

Another bullet ran out, piercing the next walker as it came near her. The kid had good aim. Shane fell back, hands covering his face, allowing her to pull her legs free. "Shane! Take her and meet us at the farm!" the knife guy commanded.

As she stood, a bullet took down a third freak, soaking her in another round of blood and brains. Bat in hand, she swung at an emaciated, long-dead freak with flesh dripping from its face. Its head burst easily, requiring little effort, allowing her to easily swing back toward a hulking former postal worker.  _Neither rain nor snow, nor impending apocalypse_ , she thought, trying to find some sort of levity in her impending doom. Two swings, and he went down easy.

"Are you coming?" she hissed at the man on the ground. When he didn't move, she kicked his leg, trying to get his attention. Why was she trying to save him? He'd tried to kill her, threatened to give her to the walkers to save his sorry life.

_Because you left them behind…_

"If you care anything for that kid, you'd get your ass up and help me protect them," she threw out in a last, desperate attempt to motivate him.

When Shane didn't respond a second time, she was done. They would soon be overrun, and she wasn't going to wait around to die. She almost wished she had a gun to shoot the man, put him out of his misery before the freaks overtook him. If there had been time, she would have tried harder to save him, but it just wasn't an option.

Jessie wasn't but a few steps away before she heard footsteps- real, living footsteps- running behind her. "Ain't got a weapon," he muttered, waving the unloaded gun.

Reaching into her backpack, praying she wasn't making a huge mistake, she handed him the hunting blade she'd stolen from Macon's camp the night they escaped. "Let's get to the house."

OOO

"You seen Rick yet?" Lori asked frantically for what seemed to be the ninth God damn time. "Carl?"

"Ain't seen jack shit, Lori," Daryl nearly growled.

"Well we can't leave—"

"Without them? You think I don't know that?!"

He sighed, watching as she re-entered the house, shoulders sinking, head cast down. Was the situation entirely her fault? Hell no. But the woman was partially to blame for the insanity developing between Rick and Shane, and he was having a bitch of a time not taking it out on her. Add on the pressure of suddenly becoming the leader of this merry band of jackasses- what with Shane and Rick missing and Hershel frantically loading his shot gun, muttering about protecting what was his- long story short, it had quickly become a pretty shitty day. And that was saying something, considering he'd been shot in the head earlier that week.

"Coming through!" a perky voice chimed in. The Chinese chick that was travelling with the frat boy pushed through the door, arms laden with boxes of unperishable food and medical supplies. Much as he was hesitant to allow the two into the group, their warning had given them precious time to pack and prepare. The frat boy seemed pretty level headed, had taken a handgun when offered and checked it carefully to ensure it was loaded and the safety was on, and once the girl had calmed down from her hysterics over Randall- whatever the hell that was- she proved willing to help in whatever way she could.

That sat alright with him. Was good enough for a ride out of Walker-ville, at least.

He heard T-dog slam the trunk of the Tucson behind them. "That's everything. Cars are ready to go. What's the plan?"

_The hell if I know. Half of us are still missin', and the other half won't leave without 'em._

"Go grab Maggie, Glenn, an' Andrea. Jimmy too. An' the kid that came with her." An idea was forming in his head. He didn't know how well it'd work, but fuck it, it was probably their best chance to try and save the farm and find Rick, Shane, and Carl.

"Logan," the girl chimed in.

"Yeah him."

T-dog nodded, and entered the house, calling out their names. "You drive like an Asian?" Daryl asked, not even thinking twice about the words leaving his mouth.

He watched as the girl's jaw dropped. She shook her head briefly before responding. "Nope. Unless you count all those tickets for running down red lights and pedestrians." She rolled her eyes. "Don't be a dick."

He snorted. She might be panicky, but she had a backbone. "Want you to drive that blue truck. I'm gonna put T-dog in the passenger seat and Andrea in the bed with you. Drive 'em around so we can take care of these motherfuckers. If we can save the farm, we will. At least hold it 'til Rick and your friend get back."

"And if we don't?" she asked quietly.

"Ya come back, get Lori an' the rest out of this house, an' high tail it the fuck out of here. Got it?"

"I got it." The girl nodded, taking the keys he handed her. "I'll try not to run anyone over."

As T-Dog and Andrea emerged, he pointed them to the battered blue truck, and the three climbed in, speeding off into the dark.

God damn he hoped he hadn't just sent them off into a death trap.

"Out of my way!" Hershel pushed through the door, shoving the others back. Shotgun at his shoulder, he stared out into the distance, ready to shoot. The first walkers were approaching the house fast, their moans filling the air.

"Daddy—" Maggie started, following him down.

"This is our house, Maggie. I'll die protecting it."

 _Good a night as any_ …

"What do you need us to do?" the frat boy- Logan- asked.

Daryl pointed at Maggie and Glenn. "You two take the Tucson. Jimmy ya take the Winnebago. We'll hold this place 'til we find Rick and Carl. Then we're out."

"What about Bethie? And the others?" Maggie asked as Logan simultaneously asked what he was supposed to do.

"Stay here. Hershel's mind ain't straight. Need someone to actually guard the house 'til T-Dog, Andrea, and your girl come back."

With affirmative nods on all sides, Daryl revved the engine of Merle's bike and sped off into the darkness.

Time for some huntin'.

OOO

"To your left!" the woman hissed, taking a swing at a walker that was quickly approaching her. Gripping the hunting knife, Shane grabbed the walker by the collar of its blood stained polo shirt and stabbed in clean between the eyes. Shoving it backwards, he managed to push down two more walkers. It wasn't a kill, but at least it would slow them down.

"Ya see Rick and Carl?" he asked the woman. She saved his ass back there, even after he nearly killed her, and though he'd wanted nothing more than to end his own miserable life, he could play nice. If it meant Lori and Carl survived the night, he'd give her any damn thing she asked for.

"Couldn't see where they were headed over the freaks. Towards the farmhouse I think. Behind you!" Grab, stab, drop. Another walker down- it was becoming mechanical at this point. He wished like hell he'd loaded both those damn pistols. "I think I see a break up ahead. We can cut through. May be our last chance to meet up with everyone else."

Ahead, he saw the clearing she indicated. It would be a risk- the walkers were quickly surrounding them, leaving them nowhere to go but the woods. If they were going to get to Lori and Carl, this was going to be their only chance.

Grab, stab, drop. He was going to save them. Rick too.

And then he'd leave the group, and end it.  _Just a few more hours. Make sure they're safe, and then you can move on._

The woman was about five feet ahead of him, entering into the thin stretch of field that remained somewhat free of walkers, when he first heard the revving engine. Beyond the fence, Daryl sped through on his motorcycle, stopping briefly to gun down the closest walkers, before taking off again. Driving the opposite direction, T-Dog leaned out the window of Otis's blue pickup, while Andrea crouched in the bed, never once wasting a bullet.  _At least I did somethin' right,_  he mused, thinking back to the afternoon in suburbia.

 _And then you fucked her and betrayed Lori._ Grab, stab, drop.

"Go back!" the woman shouted, sprinting out of the narrow pathway, and he saw the walkers moving in, closing off their one chance of reaching the farmhouse as they followed the sound of the vehicles. She swung her bat wildly, taking two walkers down.

"Shit," he muttered.

"Walsh!" he heard someone shout his name. Across the herd, he saw Daryl. As he shot at the walkers moving towards the noise, he asked "Where's Rick and Carl?"

"The barn!" Shane shouted back.

"Shane! Behind you!" the woman shouted. Grab, stab, drop. How did she know his name? Had Rick said it?

Or had she learned it from Randall? Had more of his people infiltrated the farm looking for their partner?

Had she led the walkers straight to them?

Rick would have called it paranoia. Shane wasn't so sure.

"We'll get 'em. Get to the house. We gotta get outta here, man," Darryl responded. The redneck looked at him warily, and Shane wondered what he was thinking. How much he knew. If he figured out what the plan had been all along.

Grab, stab, drop.

The woman grabbed his wrist, pulling him away from the herd. "The woods. We can cut back through the woods. The freaks'll be less dense the- oh my God."

Taking one last glance back, he watched as Daryl sped back towards the house and the barn went up in flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in getting this one up you guys! The holidays really took one out of me- I had like 3/4 of the chapter written, was going to try and wrap up the farm in this chapter, and then it turned into a whopper. Add to that Christmas, New Years, travelling between home and my parent's house, and doing a substantial chunk of wedding planning... holy crap it's been a crazy month.
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you to all of you for your kind and positive feedback and reviews! I think I've managed to reach out to everyone personally (if not, I suck, and will get you next time around!). I am so deeply appreciative of your support, and hope you will continue to leave your thoughts and feedback!
> 
> Next chapter, the farm (finally) falls! Best wishes- Jac


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_Rushing away_

_With a bag full of bones_

_I know the place you left_

_Still won't leave you alone_

_Breathe Cecily. Deep breathes. Everyone is depending on you. You can't let them down, you can't fall apart like always…_

A knock on the rear window of the pickup startled Cece as she shifted gears, slowing for a particularly rough patch of field. Freaks littered the darkness, some heading for the barn that was now covered in thick, whipping flames, others single-mindedly walking towards the largest and best meal they'd had for weeks. Biting her lip, she tried to keep herself from hyperventilating. They hadn't been surrounded by this many freaks since the beginning, back in Atlanta.

"I'm down to my pistol," Andrea, as she had been introduced, called from the bed of the truck. "We have to head toward the house. We'll get Lori and the others and get out of here. We're gonna lose the farm."

Cece looked to T-Dog, who was reloading his gun. "Andrea, you have another mag?"

She tossed one through the window, skirting over Cece's shoulder to land beside the gear stick. Before switching to a higher gear, she handed the magazine to the man next to her. "Speed up, we gotta move" he said softly. Her partner didn't seem particularly outspoken. She appreciated that. As more and more freaks appeared in the field, her breath was catching in her throat, and she honestly wasn't sure if words would come out if she tried to speak.

"It's gonna be okay…" T-Dog paused for a second. "Hell, I don't think I even got your name."

She swallowed thickly, swinging the wheel wide to avoid a group of three freaks. As they drove past, Andrea shot two before ducking back down into the truck bed.

"Cecily. My name is Cecily."

"Well, I'm tellin' you Cecily, that we're gonna be okay. We're in the car, and we'll get out of here just fine."

Hitting the accelerator, she caught site of the RV as they passed the barn. The motor was still running, but it was parked and overrun with freaks. As several chunks of burning wood fell from the roof, landing on the hood, she hoped the driver had made it out.  _Oh God, what if Logan was in there…_  Her hands gripped the wheel harder. Jessie was missing, she couldn't lose Logan too…

"Don't look at it," T-Dog said, grabbing her hand. "Just keep driving, Cecily."

"Were you a therapist before this?" she whispered, wondering how the guy next to her remained so calm.

"Social worker," the man replied. "At a high school in downtown Atlanta."

The farmhouse came into view, and Cece felt a sigh of relief escape her when she saw Logan standing beside the old farmer, trying desperately to keep the freaks at bay. The old man seemed possessed, shooting at the freaks- one, two, three, four- bodies piling up in front of him, reloading the shotgun so seamlessly that it seemed he never stopped. On the porch, the dark haired woman who lost her son was shouting at them. Whatever she said, Logan signaled for her to move with his hand, waving it wildly before burying his scythe in the head of a freak that was about to devour the farmer.

"THEY'RE RUNNING!" she heard Andrea shout from the back. Four women sprinted out of the house, holding hands tightly to keep from being separated. Cece spun the wheel hard, veering right at such a high speed, it felt like the truck would flip. Accelerating as hard as she could, she hit a teenage freak, sending it flying over the top of the vehicle. In the rearview mirror she saw it hit the ground, then begin pulling its broken body forward towards fresh meat with its arms. A scream permeated the darkness as an older woman was devoured, still clinging to the hand of the girl named Beth, who had helped Cece pack boxes of food in the kitchen. "Let me out! I'll help them!"

She slowed the truck to a stop, allowing Andrea to jump out. She stumbled briefly, and sprinted toward the women, shooting wildly. Moving in as close as she dared, Cece stopped the car.  _They'll be here soon. You'll be able to leave, Logan will come, and you'll be able to leave. Everything is going to be okay. Everything will be…_

The car door creaked open, as T-Dog went to help Andrea. She grabbed his wrist faster than she thought possible. "Please don't go." She felt guilty- too weak to defend herself, too scared to sit alone in the getaway car- but God, she didn't want to be left alone. The thought of being the last one standing… "I can't… please."

"I'll be right outside the door, alright? I'm just gonna help them into the back, and then we'll be on our way."

She didn't know why he stopped long enough to comfort her- he didn't know her from spit. Logan and Jessie, as much as they looked out for each other, would have given her a dose of tough love and told her to pull it together.  _They're okay. These people are okay._  Cece nodded quickly, and T-Dog ran into the night.

An eternity seemed to pass as she sat there, one hand shaking on the wheel, the other on the gear stick. As the women ran wildly across the field, they were separated. Beth and the brunette ran towards her, T-Dog right behind them, providing cover. Andrea split off, following a short haired woman that had been isolated from the group. T-Dog opened the door, piling the women in. He started running toward Andrea, but the freaks overwhelmed them.

"Fuck," she saw T-Dog mouth as he ran back toward the car.

_Wait, just wait. They'll be here, they're coming, they need—_

A hand slammed the door next to her. Expecting to see Logan, she nearly screamed when she turned to see dead eyes and a dislocated jaw trying to gnaw its way through the window. A second set of hands hit the window, followed by a third, and a fourth.

They were surrounded, almost completely surrounded.

She wanted to panic, or cry, but the sound of Beth whimpering beside her pulled her together. She shared a glance with the brunette, who hugged the girl tighter against her. "We gotta go, hun. Just get goin'."

"Just a few more seconds," Cece said softly, trying to sound confident. Gunshots rang out behind the car, and she heard a thump in the bed of the pickup, then more gunshots. The window opened again.

"You gotta drive, Cecily," she heard T-Dog say. "They got Andrea and Carol."

"What about Logan?" she asked, shifting the car into gear.

"He ain't leavin' Hershel," the woman said softly. "The Silverado works, Hershel has the keys. He said he'd meet us on the road. But he ain't gonna leave Hershel behind."

"I should go…" Cece started. "I should wait..."

She heard another round of gunshots erupt from behind them. The car was nearly covered, and she realized that T-Dog had no protection in the bed of the truck. He had helped her, now she would help him.

Taking one last look at Logan, she hit the gas, praying for a safe place, and that Logan and Jessie would be waiting there for her.

OOO

Retreating into the woods, the bright light of the blazing barn was the only sign that they remained near the farm. Fewer freaks dotted the landscape here- they were all distracted by the crackles and crashing coming from the barn, the noise drawing them in. The sound of gunshots still rang out, a sign that there was still life in the darkness besides them. He just hoped like hell that Daryl and Hershel had gotten Lori out of the house to safety. That Rick and Carl had made it back in one piece.

"Where are the cars we're looking for?" he heard the woman ask. She'd been relatively quiet since they'd left the field, falling behind him in pace slightly. Shane wondered how long they'd been running- she hadn't had much strength in her when he had her pinned to the ground.

_She'd still make good bait._

No, he wouldn't think that way. She saved him. That had to count for something.

Still, he carried on walking, ignoring her question. There were more important things to worry about than giving her point-by-point instructions as to how they were going to make their escape.  _If_ they managed to escape. There was still a quarter of a mile between them and the barn, from what he could judge, which meant the house was just slightly closer. If they made it out of these woods and managed to get to the pickup, they might stand a chance. They'd be safe- at least as safe as anyone could be these days.

"Shane, where are the cars?" she asked again, stopping. She sounded nervous.

She should be nervous.

This woman might have saved him, but that sure as hell didn't mean she wasn't working with Randall's crew. He had to know before he let her leave the woods. She might have convinced Rick, but she hadn't convinced him.

Glancing around them quickly, ensuring the woods were clear of walkers, he grabbed her around the waist, making her emit a "Wha-" in surprise. She let out a gasp of pain as he shoved her against an old oak, holding the knife she had given him to her neck. It nicked her slightly, and a trickle of blood poured out- nothing serious, but enough to scare her. He could see the bruises beginning to form, bright red welts where he'd nearly choked her before, and he felt an inkling of guilt that she probably didn't deserve this.

Probably being the operative word.

"Again? Seriously? What the  _fuck_  are you doing?" she hissed. "We need to meet up with the others. This whole place is gonna be overrun!"

Shane thought she'd be begging for her life. Begging for her freedom. Saying that she'd give him anything and everything he wanted if he'd let her go. He hadn't expected her to stay focused on their mutual escape, and it threw him for a loop.

Still he wasn't deterred. He needed to know, or it would drive him crazy… crazier. "You wanna live, girl? 'M gonna ask ya two questions. Honest answers, or you're dead. Got it?"

"You've gotta be kidding…" He gave her another shove, and she spat back, "Yeah, I got it."

"How'd ya know my name?" he asked.

The look she gave him only reminded Shane how far he'd gone down the road toward insanity. "Your friend shouted it two or three times in the field. How else would I know your name?"

"You know a guy named Randall?"

That stopped her. A mix of fear and defiance passed over her face. Squeezing her shoulder harder, Shane pushed her into the tree again. Her head hit hard, sending her baseball cap flying off her head. "Do. You. Know. Randall."

"There are a lot of Randall's out there," she said cautiously, her eyes not meeting his. "I know  _a_ Randall."

"Tall skinny kid. Black hair. Not the brightest tool in the shed."

She paused, swallowing hard. Debating whether she trusted him enough to know the truth. "Yeah, I know him."

"How?"

"You said two questions, asshole," she growled.

"HOW!" he shouted.

He felt himself flying backwards, not expecting the burst of strength from the woman. She seemed surprised herself, eyes wide as she watched him hit the ground. The woman hefted up her baseball bat, stalking toward him. He waited for the metal to connect with his head- could he really blame her at this point?- but it never came. A splatter of warm blood rained down on him from the walker she took out. It had probably followed the sound of his shouting.

"You wanna know how I know Randall?" Taking several steps back, she pulled down the collar of her shirt, revealing a poorly healed cut. There had been stiches at one point, through they'd been removed. The skin was raised and red, trailing down towards her breasts. He didn't want to ask how far it went.

"This is how I know Randall. Now do you plan on freaking out again, or are you done being a jackass? I've saved your ass twice, despite the fact that you keep trying to kill me. Your shouting is going to draw a hell of a lot more freaks to us, so let's play nice and get to the cars so we can get the fuck out of here. You'll go with your friends, I'll go with mine. We can forget this ever happened. Is that alright with you?" she released her collar, offering him a hand.

He took her hand, pulling himself back up. She faltered slightly at his weight, but held her ground. "The cars are on the side of the house. From what I saw the others drivin', there should still be a Silverado. 'S about another quarter of a mile north. We'll grab whoever's left an' find somewhere to meet."

Leaning down, Shane picked up her baseball cap. Minnesota Wild- he wasn't much of a hockey fan, but he remembered Jackson, one of the rookies at the station, being a big fan of the Atlanta Thrashers before they'd been moved to Canada. He'd convinced him to go to the bar and grab a few beers while watching the Thrasher-Wild match a few years back, a long game with very little action after the first period. If her accent hadn't given her away, the hat did- she wasn't a local girl.

Shaking the memories away, he held out the hat to her. Slowly, she reached for it, taking the cap from his hand as if he might attack unprovoked at any minute. Hell, given everything that happened since they met, it was a distinct possibility.

"There's something wrong with you," she stated.

"Ya think I don' know that?" he mumbled.

She ignored his response. "You're sure you're done?" He nodded. "Alright then. Let's get to the house."

OOO

"Hershel, we gotta move!" Logan shouted over the roar of the fire. Though the barn was several hundred feet away, he could feel the heat overcoming the area, beads of sweat trickling down his neck. The whinny of horses had died away long ago- probably overcome by the smoke that had quickly enveloped the building. The yard was dotted with burning freaks, the fire not stopping them until it burned the brain away.

He'd long since abandoned the hand gun that the redneck had given him, saving a single bullet in case he was overtaken by the monsters. Instead he watched Hershel's back, taking down any walker that dared to move too close to the old man.

"Ain't leavin' this farm, son. You'd understand, if you'd set down roots, had a family… this is my home, I'll die defendin' it." Hershel fired another spray of shells, three more freaks added to the pile forming around them. If they kept going, they'd have a wall of corpses to protect them.

A beam fell off the roof the barn, lighting up a bale of dried hay. The fire spread within seconds, starting to overtake the RV. Grabbing Hershel's shoulder, he turned him toward the vehicle. "At least move away from the RV. If that explodes, there's gonna be shrapnel everywhere."

"You should just leave son. I know what I'm doin'. Your girlfriend is out there, she's gonna need you."

Logan wondered if he meant Cece and chuckled to himself. Still, he was touched that the old man was looking out for them, despite having met less than an hour ago. Despite his insistence that he was going down with the ship, Hershel moved to the opposite side of the house, closer to the Silverado and away from the RV.

"Help! Help me!" A faint shout emerged from near the shed.

"You hear that?" he asked Hershel, watching as another one, two, three freaks fell. The old man nodded, reloading the shotgun.

"I'm okay son. You go help," Hershel shouted, shouldering the gun. Logan hesitated for a moment, checking to make sure the old man would be alright. No man left behind- it was one of Colonel Blake's favorite phrases, one that he'd come to live by. As Hershel took down another freak, he ran for the shed.

"Rick! Help! Please! I'm under here!" the voice called out- a woman. He saw a foot twitch from under a pile of freaks. "Daryl!"

"I'm coming!" Logan shouted, despite knowing it would attract more walkers. They seemed to be avoiding this area anyway, the pile of the dead- the actual dead- repelling them. "Hold on, I'm coming." The corpses were heavy and bloated, rotten limbs ripping off as he pulled them away from the woman. An arm reached up toward him as he moved a particularly deteriorated corpse. "That you?" he asked, not wanting to accidentally pull up a live freak.

"My leg… I can't feel my leg…"

Grabbing the woman's hand, Logan pulled her hard, freeing her from the pile of corpses. She was covered in blood, her blonde hair stained red and matted to her face. He pulled her up, and she nearly collapsed again, her leg unable to hold her weight up. Slinging her arm around his neck, he half-carried her back to Hershel. "Where is everybody?" she shouted at the old man. "Did you see Carol?"

"Don't know, Andrea. Get her to the car, son. You've gotta get her out of here. Take the keys." Hershel pulled the keys from his pocket, tossing them over.

"Hershel, you gotta come with me," Logan begged, shifting to shoulder more of Andrea's weight. He'd already lost Jessie- there had been no sign of her since they'd left her in the field, and since none of the foursome had returned, he could only assume they'd been overtaken. Losing another person, even one he barely knew, wasn't an option. "Please, you can't just stay here."

"I said get to the car!"

Dragging Andrea alongside him, he moved for the Silverado, thankful that the doors were unlocked. He boosted the woman in, fresh blood gushing out of a tear in her pants. Fuck. If she couldn't feel her leg, it was probably broken, the bone tearing through the skin if the blood was any indication. Removing his hoodie, he handed it to the woman. "Use it to wrap your leg, alright? Hold it against the bleeding. Do you guys have a doctor?"

"Hershel's a vet…" she said softly.

_Shit. Where are you Jess?_

"Do you all have a meeting place in case you get separated?" She shook her head. No.

_How the hell have they survived this long?_

"Then I'm gonna head for the main road. Just keep pressure on your leg, alright Andrea? We'll get you back into one piece." A little false optimism never hurt anyone.

Closing the door, he headed for the driver's seat, only to see three people heading for the truck. Hershel, a man he didn't recognize, and a young boy.  _That's gotta be Carl._  "Get in! Get in!" the man shouted.

"Hershel, Andrea needs you in the back. There's somethin' wrong with her leg. I think it's broken," Logan informed the older man. He held the door open, allowing Hershel to enter. Turning, he found the stranger holding his hand out for the keys, a gun pointing at his face to indicate that there weren't going to be any arguments. Surrendering the keys, Logan ran to the passenger side, taking another freak out as he swung the door open.

It took two tries, but the car rumbled on. As the man shifted the car into drive, the boy grabbed his hand. "Dad. What about Shane? And that woman?"

"Jess? You saw Jessie? Is she alive?"

The man looked between his son and Logan, face completely devoid of emotion. "Last we saw her, she was alive. We can't wait for them. Your girl's gonna have to look out for herself."

Logan struggled to control his temper. "She saved your life!"

"I ain't riskin' my son to save a stranger, kid. I'm grateful for what she did, but she's on her own for now. We'll regroup, and I'll consider helpin' you look for her." He hit the gas, speeding towards a dirt road.

"You'll consider?" Logan choked out in complete disbelief. He recognized the man's determination to save his son. He was sure if he'd ever had a kid, he'd feel the same way. But compared to the rest of the group, who actually seemed thankful that they'd stopped to warn them, this guy was cold. Ungrateful. It rubbed Logan the wrong way entirely. "Stop the car. Let me out of the car."

"Ain't stoppin' 'til my boy is safe. You hear me?"

"You abandoned her! With a psychopath, from what I've heard!" The redneck's brief words regarding Shane were not comforting. Frankly, Logan was more worried him than the walkers.

The driver gripped the wheel hard, careening onto the driveway with a turn so hard it sent Logan crashing into the door. He opened his mouth, ready to say something.

"We've got a bigger problem," Hershel interrupted, the steady tenor of his voice putting a stop to the argument. "Andrea's been bit."

OOO

"Shit. Goddamn fuckin' shit," Shane shouted, as they stepped back into the open, having finally reached the farm house. He threw the knife in his wildly in frustration, hitting a tree. It stuck soundly in the bark. Jessie was just glad he hadn't thrown it at her.

"What now?" she gasped, struggling to catch her breathe. After her brief second wind that allowed her to shove Shane away, her body was starting to rebel. She'd been on the move at least twelve hours, she knew she couldn't do much more. "What?"

"Car's gone," Shane replied. "They're leavin' without us." Across the field, separated by the burning barn and a sea of freaks, she watched the tail lights of the car disappear down the driveway.

She saw one or two other cars near the house. It would be a risk- they'd have to get through the herd- but it was possible. "What about those…"

"Ain't worked in weeks. Daryl's been tryin' to repair 'em, but they're done in."

Jessie's shoulders slumped, the weight of her bag making her stagger. This was it, wasn't it? She'd survived the outbreak, escaped Macon and his pals, somehow may have managed to get Logan and Cece to safety (and God, she hoped they'd made it to safety), evaded murder at the hands of Shane twice, and now she was going to die.

No. She couldn't think that way. There was too much fight left in her, even if she was exhausted. She'd keep going until she dropped. Even if no one ever knew how she died, they were not going to say she gave up. Besides, she had the horrible feeling that if she showed any weakness, Shane would take her down. Probably justify it as a mercy kill.

She wouldn't show weakness.  _Keep it separated. Don't think about it. Focus,_ she commanded herself. Pushing her fears for Logan and Cece and her sadness for her dead friends aside, she pulled the knife out of the tree, handing it back to Shane. Keeping her voice as steady as she could, she started forming a plan. "Alright, the main road isn't an option. Is there anything going east that'll get us to the road? Or where we can stay for the night?"

"There's a housing development 'bout three miles east, but last we were there, it was overrun. Haven't seen many walkers come from that direction, so I'm thinkin' it's still packed. What about north?"

"North is where the horde came from. Our camp too. We were coming from a town … Marlboro I think? We didn't hit the horde until we got back toward camp. If we cut back to the town-"

He looked at her incredulously. "You're gonna make it all the way back to that town? Try that, you're gonna end up walker-bait. You're barely standin' upright as it is."

She snorted, not finishing her thought. If he didn't want to hear about the places she and Logan had cleared, he didn't have to. "I thought your plan was to use me as walker-bait. Wouldn't that make life easier for you?" Turning around, she started to walk away from him, pausing long enough to take out a lone, shambling freak that had been separated from the pack. Wiping the blood spatter off her face she added, "You're concerns are duly noted."

"The hell are you going? Don't you walk away from me," Shane shouted.

"Would you shut your damn mouth?" Jess hissed in return. This guy didn't know when to quit, stomping around the woods, shouting at the top of his lungs every time he didn't get his way. Not for the first time she wondered how he and his group had survived as long as they did. "I'm getting the hell out of here. The way I see it, you have two choices. We can stand around here, hope the barn is enough of a distraction to keep the walkers away, and pray that none of the cars catch fire and completely blow. Or, we can head north and find somewhere to spend the night. Tomorrow we go back to my old camp. The freaks should be long gone by then. We'll grab one of the cars and whatever supplies are left, and we'll find your people and mine. I know which option I prefer, but please, if you have a different preference, let me know."

She didn't even stop to wait for his answer.

OOO

They hadn't spoken since her outburst.

Shane didn't know how much time had passed, but the light of the burning barn had long since disappeared, leaving them to struggle through the forest without any guidance. They'd come across several straggling walkers, and at one point had to double back to avoid a group of ten or so, still trying to catch up with the rest of the herd. He'd worried for a moment that they might catch the scent of dried blood on her neck from when he'd nicked her, but an explosion in the distance- probably the RV being completely consumed by the flames- had them distracted. Other than that, the woods were silent, the animals that had once been there now a feast for walkers.

Ahead of him, the woman stumbled over a tree root, hitting the ground hard. She growled slightly, pushing herself back up and wiping her hands together to remove the pebbles and dirt. Removing her pack as she stood, she shook off the fall.

"You want me to take that?" Shane asked, feeling slightly bad that she'd been lugging around the only supplies they had all night.

She looked at him suspiciously. "You're not going to run off with my stuff, are you?"

He rolled his eyes. "I haven't ditched you yet, have I? Just gimme the bag…. Shit, I don' even know your name."

Seemingly convinced that he wasn't going to dash, she handed him the pack and picked up her baseball bat. "You don't know it 'cause I haven't given it."

"That's a hell of a way to build up trust."

"If you can name one thing you've done to earn  _my_  trust, then you can have my name." She kept walking.

"God damn women," he mumbled, pushing himself to keep pace.

Shane expected a response, but it didn't come. Something caught her eye, distracting her. She flitted over to a tree, picking up a baseball cap that was lying beneath it. "I know where we are." She pointed to a piece of surveyor's tape wrapped around the tree. "My group marked this. If we walk about ten minutes east there's a hunting cabin. We cleared it a couple of days ago. Hopefully it wasn't destroyed by the horde."

"Is there anything you haven't thought of?" he muttered, following her as she walked with more confidence.

She shrugged, ducking under a low hanging tree branch. "Wasn't me. Had an ROTC kid in our group. Thank God he was with us, or we wouldn't have gotten out of Atlanta."

Silence again. They walked in step until the cabin appeared. It wasn't much more than a shack, like many of the cabins that dotted the Georgia countryside. Probably built by a redneck decades ago to escape the wife and kids, and the grind of daily life. Shane watched as the woman circled the cabin twice, checking for any issues. Her shoulders sagged as she returned to the front, and his stomach sank, thinking that the cabin had been compromised.

But no, it was relief. She climbed the porch, opening a cabinet that had been built for firewood. Moving the logs inside, she pulled out the key. Before Shane had even walked through the door, she'd lit a candle on a table next to the door and was flipping the mattress on the bed over. "Whatcha doin?" he asked.

Before she could answer, he heard the ripping of tape- someone had opened the bottom of the mattress and covered it with duct tape. "Protein bar?" she asked, tossing the food over to him before he could answer.

He looked at her in confusion. "How'd you—"

"Like I said, our ROTC kid. Left supplies here in the cabin in case someone got stuck on a supply run and couldn't make it back to camp. Got a first aid kit here too, if you need it."

Devouring the bar like it might be stolen from his hands, Shane lifted his shirt to check where Rick had grazed him with the knife. He could see the scratch, but no blood had been drawn. Fuck, he was lucky. He took a seat on the bed, putting the pillow between him and the wall as a cushion. The woman disappeared into the bathroom, emerging a few minutes later with a bandage on her neck where he'd gotten her with the knife.

"I'll take first watch," she stated, tossing him a water bottle and taking a sip from her own.

"You high?" Shane responded. "Like I'm gonna trust you to keep watch. How do I know you ain't gonna stab me in the back."

"Ditto," she replied, settling in on the chair. Somewhere in heaven, he knew his mama was ready to rain down fire and brimstone for taking over the bed and leaving the girl to sleep on a kitchen chair. She seemed comfortable enough, though, noshing on her protein bar like she hadn't just spent the whole day running for her life, feet kicked up on the table. "Guess it'll be you, me, and the freaks tonight, Shane."

It was silent the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm the worst you guys. Seriously. I'm so sorry about the delay in this chapter. Growing up is the worst- job hunting, working a freelancing gig, planning a wedding, getting sucked into Agent Carter (seriously, you guys, great series). I can't promise my updates will be super regular until after July is over (wedding + honeymoon- whooo!). I have four weddings between now and September, including my own, so I'm going to be all over the country for the next few months. But this story is not abandoned- updates may be slow, but they're coming.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. We've seen the last of the farm, now we get to move onto the fun stuff. I anticipate one more chapter split between the two groups. After that, we'll be moving into new territory- Shane, Jessie, and the search for the others. We'll see bits and pieces of the other group, but it'll be focused on Shane and Jessie trying to survive the freaks (and each other) and find their friends. So hooray! Thanks again for reading! Feedback is ALWAYS greatly appreciated. Best - Jac


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